


the world can't keep us down

by moonshhiine



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Birthday, Canon Compliant, Gen, Phone Call, set in october 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26836705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshhiine/pseuds/moonshhiine
Summary: “It’s not too late to get on a train and greet your favorite brother in person.”“You’re also my least favorite,” Atsumu said flatly.Osamu laughed, sinking down into the beanbag that Atsumu let him take from their childhood room when they were both moving out. “Happy birthday, ‘Tsumu. Ain’t ya glad we didn’t eat each other in the womb?”There is only one Miya Atsumu, thankfully.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Miya Osamu
Comments: 18
Kudos: 217
Collections: Miya Twins Week 2020





	the world can't keep us down

**Author's Note:**

> title from Proof by Paramore
>
>> My heart is bigger than the distance in between us. I know it 'cause I feel it beating—so strong it'll knock you down.  
> 
> 
> I would like to thank university for absolutely kicking my ass this term. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it this year, but here we are. The twins' birthday is the only birthday I was able to write a fic for last year, too, so I guess I love them a lot or whatever.
> 
> Enjoy reading!

Miya Atsumu fell in love with the feeling of synthetic leather on his fingertips in 4th Grade while his brother watched, opposite him on the court and always one step ahead or behind him.

“I don’t ever wanna be like ya,” Osamu had decided, all the way back in junior high. Which was not to say that he thought his brother was the monster everyone painted him out to be, but his brother had always been quick to fall—eager to throw himself into the sharks and come out with teeth even sharper than theirs. Osamu was just good, mostly.

“In the end,” he had said, the winter of their first year in high school, “I think ya love volleyball a little more than I do.” Osamu will try anything once and succeed without having to give it much thought, but Atsumu will be your right-hand man, tried and true, ride or die.

He made up his mind about volleyball in the spring before their second year but kept it under wraps until they got back from Tokyo the following January. “When we’re on our deathbeds,” Atsumu had yelled then, all bark and no bite, “I’m gonna look ya right in your face and say I had the happier life.”

_Can’t we both be happy?_ he mused to himself as he packed their bentos the morning after. That fight haunted Osamu for weeks before he realized the part that bothered him most was the thought of his brother on his deathbed.

Onigiri Miya had a rocky start with nothing but his semester and a half of experience as a business student to fall back on, but Kita had graciously helped him get his foot in the door and Atsumu begrudgingly lent a pair of hands whenever he had time to take the half-hour train ride back from Osaka. The first store on the outskirts of Nishinomiya was a labor of love and Osamu felt his friends and family even in its deepest corners.

Perhaps publicizing the four professional athletes at the restaurant's opening would have skyrocketed its popularity, but just because there was no such thing as bad publicity didn’t mean there was no such thing as too much of it.

In any case, Osamu knew he made the right choice. So did Atsumu, and still…

It had already been over a year since they graduated, but they made the time to go to Universal Studios with Rintarou and Hitoshi last time. Between all the traction that the restaurant has been getting recently and the V.League coming up in a little under a month, this was the first year that they would be spending their birthday away from each other.

Atsumu’s call came in right as the lunch rush began to simmer down.

“I got a business to run, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu said. He nodded to one of the staff as he hooked his apron by the door and headed up to the living quarters above the restaurant. “Whaddya need? Ya better be on break. Still haven’t paid for the last time ya bribed Foster-san with his favorite onigiri to get out of practice.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Atsumu muttered back. “Happy birthday, ya jerk.”

“It’s not too late to get on a train and greet your favorite brother in person.”

“You’re also my least favorite,” Atsumu said flatly.

Osamu laughed, sinking down into the beanbag that Atsumu let him take from their childhood room when they were both moving out. “Happy birthday, ‘Tsumu. Ain’t ya glad we didn’t eat each other in the womb?”

“Ya don’t gotta say it like that.”

“How’s the team doing? Heard Kageyama joined Wakatoshi and Kourai in the Adlers this year, hope you enjoyed having Japan’s best serve while it lasted.”

Atsumu squawked indignantly. “It’s still better than yours.”

He grinned. “I ain’t a spiker anymore, dumbass. I woulda had to deal with all your moping ‘cause I woulda been doing way better than ya by now.”

“Yeah, right,” Atsumu said, a strange lilt to his voice. Osamu could practically hear his eyes rolling. “I think you’re right where ya need to be, ‘Samu.”

The beanbag rustled as he wrinkled his nose and shifted around for a more comfortable position. He tilted his head back for a nice, upside-down view of the clock that Aran got him last year. It didn’t match anything else in the room, but Osamu had never been one for interior design anyway. “It’s one in the afternoon, why’re ya getting all sappy on me?”

“God, would it kill ya to be a little nicer to me?”

“Probably,” he responded, not a second off-beat from their usual banter. He stretched out his legs with a huff. “But I guess I can leave the volleyball to ya if ya leave the kitchen to me.”

Atsumu grumbled, “Ya burn some western dish _one time_ —”

“It was three times and ya broke my favorite spatula,” Osamu argued. Never mind that Atsumu got him a ¥20,000 whetstone set to more than make up for it. Between volleyball and leeching off Osamu for most of his life, Atsumu had never spent that much on anything before. The restaurant was in its humble beginnings and Osamu nearly burst into tears when Atsumu dropped it off after hours, but he swore it was just the stress. He faked a sniffle, mourning, “My eggs are never gonna be the same again.”

“Oh, shuddup. Have ya decided on where ya want to open another branch?”

“Still up in the air,” he answered, eyes trained on the water stain on the ceiling. “Keiji’s been bugging me about a Tokyo branch before this one even opened. Oomimi-san thinks it’s unfair that I opened a restaurant after he moved to Australia and Akagi-san wants one in Sapporo where his team is based.”

Atsumu stayed quiet for a moment before asking, “What about ya?”

“I guess I’m still makin’ sure this one’s… real, ya know?”

“‘Course it’s real,” Atsumu said. “‘Cause it’s you. I mean, I dunno why everyone was always callin’ me a monster. You were the one who was good at everything ya did right off the bat. And then ya’d get even better and it’d piss me off.”

“Aww, ‘Tsumu. Ya mean that?”

“I don’t say shit I don’t mean.”

“I love ya, too,” Osamu said, a laugh bubbling from his throat despite his sincerity.

Atsumu made gagging noises over the phone. “Oi. Quit puttin’ words in my mouth.”

“Sure, whatever.” He shook his head to himself before standing up. He twisted his back and listened for the series of cracks that followed. Rintarou would have disapproved if he was there. “I should get back soon. I know I’m his boss, but Suzuki-kun’s been practicing his knife skills recently and I don’t want to be on the other end of that just ‘cause I left him to fend for himself in the middle of a rush. Hasn’t your team been looking for ya?”

“Inarizaki’s the only team that’s ever liked me. Doubt they even noticed I was gone.”

Alright, _well_. There was a lot to unpack there. It was always hard to tell where Atsumu’s arrogance ended and his insecurities began because they looked like the same shadow. Osamu pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a deep sigh. “Has it occurred to ya that maybe ya just have a shitty personality?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“And has it occurred to ya to try and fix it?”

“Sure,” Atsumu said. 

“Well, try harder,” Osamu told him. “I ain’t gonna be listenin’ to ya whine about how ya had a shitty life ‘cause ya couldn’t get along with the team ya sold your soul off to. If this is a competition then ya better treat it seriously or I’ll kick your ass.”

Atsumu snickered. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll tell ya how it goes then.”

“Please don’t.”

Osamu put his phone on speaker before setting it down in front of the mirror. Atsumu recounted an anecdote from the other day at the Jackals’ dorm and Osamu knew his brother would be just fine. He cracked his knuckles and fixed the black cap on his head to be just the right amount of lopsided. There were still days that staring at his reflection—natural hair and undercut all grown out—was a little unsettling. Atsumu and Osamu spent most of their lives trying to distinguish themselves from each other before realizing they didn’t need to.

“I woulda come if I could, ya know,” Atsumu admitted, voice crackling with static.

“Yeah,” Osamu mumbled. “Me too.”

“We’re okay, right?”

“I’d say we’re doing great, really,” Osamu said, and he meant it. “You do your thing and I’ll do mine, yeah? As if either of us has ever settled for second best. The rest of the world ain’t got nothin’ on us.”

“Good,” Atsumu said. “I’ll leave ya to it, then.”

Osamu grinned at his reflection, baring teeth like the ghost of a fox he once knew. “Alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mediocrewood).


End file.
